Rustic revival

Dylan McGrath is back. It's the talk of the town, but it's still early days, writes CATHERINE CLEARY

RUSTIC STONE IS a strange fish. It claims to be simple but has a bewildering, symbol-strewn menu. The food is served on so many slabs that doing a waiting shift must feel like pumping iron on a Stairmaster. It’s a restaurant in need of an editor, someone to gently ask: “Now Dylan do you really think that’s a good idea?”

It has been more than a year since Dylan McGrath shut the doors of Mint in Ranelagh and he has brought a smorgasbord of concepts to a corner building on South Great George’s Street in Dublin, around the corner from the foodie mothership known affectionately in our house as Fallon-and-Burn-Your-Money.

On a sunny Monday evening on back-to-school week, I arrived early. Even with a headstart I had only just read halfway down one side of the menu by the time my friend arrived. It was making my brain ache.

There are bright dots indicating vegetarian, gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free and superfood. McGrath doesn’t ration his words. Bring your reading glasses. The tables filled quickly until there was a distinctly un-Monday-night buzz about the place.

My friend has worked and eaten in enough restaurants to know her onions. Along with the bites, starters, soups, pastas and salads, there are “On the Stone” options that you can cook at your table. “I love halibut,” she said. “I just don’t want to have to cook it myself.” The halibut option comes with a “careful not to blow the flavour” warning. It may as well have read “careful not to order this”. At €27, I’m guessing most diners would like to be sure it was going to taste good, whether or not they flipped it at exactly the right moment.

I chose two of the Bites to start, a salt cod brandad (€3.50) and the duck and beef breadless sandwiches (€4.75). My friend chose the crab mayonnaise on toast (€8.75) for starter and the mackerel in a bag (€21) for main course. I went for a starter as a main, the Asian quails on a stick (€8.95). We ordered two side dishes of polenta chips (€4.25) and a spring relish (€3.25), and a bottle of New Zealand Mahi Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc (€38.90).

From the kitchen, some 16 steps down, the friendly waiters hefted our starters. They arrived on a slab of wood with a stone attached by pins to the top. The stones were cold and heavy. At one point there was so much lumber on the table I had to pop one under my chair to make room. Nothing as boring as white plates here.

The cod brandade wrapped in ham came as three delicious skewered rolls that could be eaten in roughly two mouthfuls. The duck and beef sandwiches were thin slices of meat with a herbed goats’ cheese filling. They were tasty, if a bit Atkins, and terrific value for under a fiver.

My friend’s crab was the highlight of the meal. It was a warm brown mush with a slight chilli heat to it and a perfectly sweet semi-dried tomato-half dropped into the warm centre. It came on thin, crisp toasts and was as moreish a starter as I’ve tasted.

The mackerel in a bag came in a parcel of baking parchment. It had a soupy mix of carrots and quinoa which, in a saffron stock, was tooth-achingly sweet. Fresh coriander cut the sweetness but there weren’t enough leaves to give one per forkful. My quail was crunchy and delicious. The stick was a great way to serve a slippery, tiny bird.

The sides were interesting. Each bite of the polenta chip was tasty but swelled in your mouth like the expanding foam builders spray into holes. We agreed polenta is a mystery ingredient neither of us have been able to de-bland at home. It may be healthy, but it’s amorphous, yellow and stodgy. The spring relish should have been wonderful, a vibrant pea-green purée with whole beans and peas on top, but the purée had been so heavily salted it was inedible.

Desserts were mainly sugar-free, sweetened with agave syrup. I went for the only non-sugar-free option, a Catalan cassanade with toasted brioche (€7.95). My friend ordered the exotic fruit sushi with “surprise wasabi” (€7.50).

My dessert had a taste reminiscent of detergent. It bubbled as if warm, but was cold, and the primary flavour was something akin to Lemon Fairy. The brioche was a sullen lump in the middle of the small bowl of yellow, bubbly liquid. Two mouthfuls were all I could manage, the second to check if it could actually be this vile. The fruit sushi was nice – mango, passionfruit purée, wrapped in sticky rice and with the ultimate tasty accompaniment, pickled ginger. The surprise? A pistachio mousse whipped up to look like wasabi.

Maybe life after a Michelin kitchen means you are forever the rock star playing the village fête. You don’t let the bewilderment of the crowd cramp your riff. McGrath has put flashes of brilliance into his new venture. I would cycle there in the rain to eat the crab mayo on toast again. I hope he irons out the early-day wrinkles, invests in some white plates and lets a roar at the cooks every time someone reaches for the salt.

Dinner for two with a bottle of wine cost €109.